Making Up For What Was Lost: A Clato Story
by babsygirl2
Summary: Clove killed because she knew if she could release someone from the actual hell, it would be one less person who suffered. But that was ages ago, so it seems, and now Clove is dead along with 22 others. Cato is determined to change the way things are. Clato. Slight tragedy. It will get better, I promise! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

He walked up to the doors, everything had an eerie feel to it. He was strong, well built, everything a victor should be. This place, this tall grey building, he hadn't been here since the day before Reaping Day. That seemed like years ago, but in reality, it was just a few weeks. Cato had just wrapped up his victory tour, all alone. His mind wandered back to his district partner, Clove. The girl who threw knives better than anyone he knew. The girl everyone said was insane. The girl that was dead.

He scoffed. Clove wasn't crazy. Cato knew the way she thought, the reason she liked to kill. He had been inside her mind since he had first met her. They'd always been there for each other, except for the time she needed him the most. He winced at the memory, her laying in the grass, half dead. _"Cato!" _She had shreiked. Her distressed voice echoed in the back of his mind, the dark corners where all of those repressed memories lay.

* * *

_ Cato stood alone in the meadow. Hunting was permitted in district two, but somewhat limited. Only certain animals could be hunted. He had ran here when his dad had finally pissed him off enough so that he wanted to get away. Training was all they ever did together. He was propped up on a rock, just listening to the sound that the wind made against the grass. He smiled slightly._

_Suddenly, an object whizzed by his ear. He jumped and turned in the direction the pointy projectile came from. Cato suddenly wished he had brought a sword with him. Out of the shadows stalked a little girl, no older than ten or eleven, who had an evil grin on her face. Her dark hair framed a petiete face, with wide brown eyes full of hate. His eyes flicked down to the object which was embedded in the grass a few feet from him, a knife, then back to the girl. She was breathing heavily and had a few cuts and scratches across her face. She turned and ran, her hair flying wildly like a whip behind her._

_Cato blinked, and then shrugged, grabbing the knife and heading back to his house. Lurking behind a tree, planning to maul him, was a bear. He realized after he had killed it, that without the girl's knife, there was a great chance he'd have died. At age twelve, Cato didn't have as much strength as he'd hoped. She wasn't trying to kill him...she was trying to help. From that moment on, he held a strange admiration for the little girl._

* * *

Now, he stood tall before the door and knocked with force. He only needed to be in the District for a minute before he heard plans of rebellion. _Rebellion? In two? Why would they bite the hand that feeds them? _Such careless talk of this could lead to terrible things. If the Capitol or the Peacekeepers find out, the person saying these things would be publically executed. He could taste excitement in the air, smell the freedom. The door was thrown open, and Cato was gestured into the training center. He followed his trainer, as she swung her hips with every step. "I bet you've heard about the plans, eh Cato?" She purred, clicking her mile-high heels along the tile floor.

He was led into a room, deep below the ground. He assumed it was so no cameras would follow them, but he wasn't sure. His trainer had always been just a bit paranoid. "Are you on our side?" The woman hissed into his ear. It was shocking knowing that she was in on this too, of all people to be apart of the rebellion. Just as Cato was about to hesitate, he felt a cold steel knife pressed softly, but firmly, to his neck. He just nodded, and her cold grey eyes pierced through to his blue ones, "Cato, say it. I've got to hear it," He sat, stone faced, "Yes, I'm on your side," He said in a low voice. She nodded in approval, backing up.

"Now, Cato, since you're on our side, I'm going to have to explain all of this," Cleo muttered, pacing. Her grace added to her cat-like beauty, which is the reason that when he was younger, Cato had a crush on her. But now, at the age of nineteen, Cato was over it. Done with her hard-to-get personality, besides, now she was approaching thirty-five. It was a wonder how she retained such a youthful look, you could easily mistake her for twenty-something.

His light blue eyes followed her exotic figure around the barely lit room, you could make out the pensive look on her face. "We are starting a rebellion, as you know. Unfortunately, I am not exactly...in charge. The person in charge has exactly no idea what they're doing. Not a plan. They're only recruiting members," Her eyes narrowed like that of a snake's. Cato thought about telling her about strength in numbers, but he just slightly shook his head to himself. "We need you Cato, you are the most important link in this grand scheme. We need you to tell only certain people of this plan. It's vital that only trusted people are told," She smirked, "Of course, _I_ wouldn't send _you_ to other districts. I would have someone else, because you are victor. You'll be recognized. That is unless...we could also get someone to style you...yes," She nodded at her idea, then gestured him out of the room with a satisfied smirk.

* * *

Cato was rushed into hair and make-up, as the plan was set into motion quickly. He was told to simply relax, and in about an hour, they were done. The finished result was stunning. It looked nothing like him! Sitting in the mirror was a brunette boy with brown eyes, caked in make-up that made him look tanner than he actually was. He wasn't expecting to have his hair dyed! Blonde is such a hard color to get back after dying. Luckily, his hair grows fast, so as soon as this pretending game was over, he'd be back to being his normally blonde self. He looked up at the stylist and shrugged. He was still attractive.

Cleo stalked up behind him, "We are deploying you in about a half an hour, so get only the essentials and leave. You will be going from district to district trying to convert others to this...scheme. If anyone is to find out and not agree," She paused and slipped a deadly-looking knife into his breast pocket, "You know what to do,"

Cato chuckled and jogged out of the room to get home. He made the decision that as soon as he was out of this room, Cato wasn't his name. He was a nameless face, bringing the rebellion to life. He packed a knife, which he'd keep inside his pocket at all times. _Just in case_, He thought, remembering you couldn't always get to every pocket, and the breast pocket was a terrible place, it would look odd to suddenly reach for the pocket in a time where it would be needed. And it was all to tiny, more of a toy for torture than to intimidate. Luckily, these pants had deep pockets to conceal the length of the dagger.

He decided to go against packing clothes, as they would be difficult to conceal. In the corner of his eyes, he saw it. _Intruder..._ He whipped around, brandishing the dagger at the potential stranger. Instead, he was greeted with the image of himself in the mirror. But it wasn't Cato. Not the boy with the sword. The games had stripped him of that, taken away with the games. _With Clove._ The boy in the mirror's eyes were barren, not because of the contacts, he'd seen his eyes many times before this. Cato used to have smoldering eyes, fueled with rage aimed at no specific subject. He thought of the one source that frequently quelled the anger, but quickly shook his head to try and empty his mind. She didn't exist anymore. She was now just a figure, buried in a wood coffin beneath six feet of earth. The thought being put like that closed his throat. Once, he was a boy of little emotion, sorrow not being one of them. Now, every night behind his lids, those last moments of Clove's life were fed to him, which made it frequent. That led to sleepless nights, which left brown circles beneath his empty eyes. He used to walk with pride oozing out of him, shoulders back and broad, and confident. He was just a shell.

He sighed, along with a knife, he brought enough money to hold him over for a good while. When he put it in his pocket, the handle of the knife jabbed his hand and brought him back into his subdued reality. The story of how he got that knife which suddenly weighed a thousand pounds.

* * *

_All around Cato, there was a celebratory air. It was his fifteenth birthday, and he was glowing with promise, causing him to be thrown a huge party. Girls were dancing around him, which made him smirk. They were all desperate to be apart of the future victor's life. He was considered one of the most handsome guys in district two, gaining him several potential hookups. _

_Since Cato was also wealthy, and slightly spoiled, which got him a party with alcohol and many guests. This day marked him one day closer to being apart of The Hunger Games, so of course, it was important for him. The gifts, cake, and somewhat intoxicated guests contributed to the party atmosphere, and the dancing was getting sexual. He was talking to three girls, who only held interest in flirting with him and turning him into a man. His lust for the girls was increasing by the minute. Just when their conversation was getting close to sex, he felt a faint tap on his shoulder. He groaned and brushed it off, which brought him three harder jabs on his pressure point. He flinched and turned to see the annoying person and tell them to go away, but saw that it was Clove and his eyes lightened and took on a giddy look. "Hey," Cato shouted over the buzzing crowd. Clove was visibly uncomfortable with this party, because while Cato was the life of the party, Clove was shy, not liking loud parties for her lack of trust and inability to hear her surroundings._

_Clove pursed her lips and grabbed Cato's shirt collar, dragging him out the door. This irritated him, "What was that for?" He hissed. He was swaying slightly from the alcohol, and Clove rolled her eyes. She knew that even when he was drunk he would never hurt her. "It was too loud to talk in there, and I need to give you something," She said, fighting to keep his attention from diverting to something else. He smirked at her, narrowing his eyes to slits, he moved closer to her, putting his arm above her on the side of the house, "What would that be?" He whispered seductively._

_Clove, unfazed by his advances, mumbled a quick, 'Cato, stop,' and continued, "I wanted to give you a present," That's when Cato noticed one hand was always behind her back. He grinned, flashing pearly white teeth at her, "Awesome," He stared down at her lips hopefully. He was expecting a kiss, a confession, something to satisfy his ego. She smirked, but quickly replaced it with a show of happiness, because today was a special day, "Happy birthday, Cato," She slipped a thin, rectangular box into his hands. "Open it," She said with an edge, it was almost a dare. He swiftly removed the wrapping paper and opened the box. _

_Inside the box, a beautiful hunting knife. The black steel felt cool in his hands as he ran a finger over the razor-like blade, which opened a little cut. He grinned ear to ear, which got Clove smiling too, "Do you like it?" She asked, half-knowing his response. He looked to her, his smile sincere enough to make her stomach stir and her cheeks hot. He realized the knife to be one of her favorites, which caused the smile to fade into a stunned expression. Clove hardly lets anyone touch her knives, but to give away her favorite?_

_Clove frowned at Cato's smile being sucked away. She barely had time to wonder what was on his mind before his eyes, flickering like firelight, focused on hers and he crashed his lips into hers. Her whole face heated, her breath caught in her throat and she panicked slightly, for if someone saw this, they'd get the wrong idea. They were just friends...just friends. Her eyes were wide, but slowly accepted that even if she tried to push him off, it'd be useless. He had a good hundred and thirty pounds on her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and swayed slightly. Then she realized...he's only kissing her because he's drunk...if she had given him the knife when he was sober, he would've thanked her and smiled, nothing more. Instead of kissing back, she just sighed. He took this as a sigh of pleasure, of course, cocky Cato._

_Finally he parted for air. He didn't notice her lack of response. He grinned at her, "Thanks," She blushed, "You're welcome," She whispered._

* * *

For one of the few times in his life, Cato wished he hadn't been drunk. If he had a chance to redo that night it would be all for Clove. If he had a chance to re-feel those lips, he'd take it in a moment. But life wasn't like that. He had to sit down on the bed and watch a tear hit the floor, instead of getting to watch her live the rest of her life. _  
_

His tears were halted by Cleo at the door asking if he was ready. He slipped the knife back into his pocket. But he knew that the tears couldn't wait forever. They'd be back tonight to console him into a terrifying sleep of reliving Clove's death.

* * *

**Hi everyone! This is my first Clato fic, and my first Hunger Games one as well! I will continue with it, because I've got high hopes and a lot of free time. Please read and review! It'd mean the world to me! Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! Thank you guys so much for reading the last chapter and reviewing, to whoever reviewed, let me love you, please! That was so nice of you, and when I read it, it made my day! This chapter would have been up sooner, but both times I tried writing, and I got _really_ far, it didn't save correctly. So here I am, trying to attempt again. Thank you, and please review! :)**

* * *

Cato decided not to go with any extra clothes, that would make him look too suspicious. He packed a couple of food bars in his deep pockets, all the money he had saved, and a knife. He figured in any situation other than torture, the knife Cleo had given him was too dainty. This one was a real, and could be used for a soundless execution when needed. Screaming would draw attention, and attention was bad when you're trying to start a rebellion.

In the corner of his eye, he saw it. _Intruder._ He spun, drawing out the knife at the man. Adrenalin coursed through his veins, but he felt cool disappointment and relief when he realized it was only his reflection. He sighed, muttering to himself. In the mirror, he saw that it didn't look like him at all. Before Cato was in the games, he stood tall, proud. Now, he forced his posture. He didn't feel the same overwhelming pride and arrogance. His eyes, once sparkling with rage or glee at someones death were now reduced to hollow spheres. How disgusted Clove would be right now.

His eyes flickered to the knife, and he sat on the bed, running his fingers over the sharp thing. He remembered back to when he'd first gotten it.

* * *

_It was Cato's sixteenth birthday, and the atmosphere was full of loud conversation, live music and alcohol. Cato always tried to get some sort of the forbidden drink at his parties. Everyone was dancing and hooking up with each other, and at the moment, two gorgeous girls were flirting with him. He was grinning at them and making jokes and they were falling all over him. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder, but he ignored it and continued flirting. He felt the tap hard on his pressure point and spun on his heel to face the rather small girl. Clove._

_"Hey Clove!" He grins brightly at her, somewhat intoxicated. She rolls her eyes and drags him out of the party, standing in the cool night air. "What was that for?" he hisses, upset. He was having fun, and now those girls were going to just go and hookup with someone else. She smirks at him, holding something behind her back, "What, you don't want your present?" Cato's face lights up._

_"Of course I do," He puts his hands up against the house to cage her in and look down at her, smirking back. She rolls her eyes at him and pulls a box from behind her back. He opens the medium box and his jaw drops. In his hands is Clove's favorite knife. He can't believe it, Clove never lets anyone touch her knives, but here she was giving him her favorite one. His eyes flicker from the knife to her face, where she's grinning. He's speechless, and before he can think, his courage from the bottle takes over and he's leaning down, kissing her. She's the one who's shocked now. She tries to pull away, but he's got a tight hold on her waist and she can't get away. She gives up, closes her eyes and kisses back._

* * *

His eyes were brimming with tears. That was one of the few things he had of her, a fuzzy memory. That was one time he wished to not be drunk, because that was a kiss he'd never be able to have again. He wanted the full memory of what her lips felt like pressed to his, and now he'd never get that one. _That_ was the one he wanted to remember. He wanted that feeling, her kiss on his lips, with him. He blamed it on the fact that he missed her and wanted a memory. He still couldn't believe he had the knife, she would have never given anyone else the knife, she'd have wanted to be buried with it if she didn't give it to him.

This object, this would always be more than a knife. It would always have more significance. And he'd never know it that meaning.

Cleo opened the door unexpectedly and caught sight of the first fallen tear. She smirked sympathetically. They'd all lost someone to the games. Cato looked up at her and slid the knife into his pocket and put on his best game face on. They talked about the importance of this mission, what he should do in certain situations, where he'd stay, and so on.

So there they sat, behind boxes filled with District Two's main export, looking into an old train compartment. Cleo sighed and for the first time ever, said something completely out of the ordinary. Her cat-like eyes made contact with his, "Cato, this is what she'd have wanted. You really will be avenging her death if we succeed. _If_," She suddenly hissed, slapping him across the face, "That will only happen if you keep your head clear. You can think of her if you're killing, but only then, Cato. Now get on the train," He looked to see if the coast was clear, and quickly bolted into the abandoned train cart, closing the door swiftly and quietly.

He was told to fall asleep soon, because the train went from each district to the capitol in number order, so if he missed a train, which spent a whole day being loaded up with the exports, he'd be stuck in a district for days, or miss it entirely. He was told not to leave the train at the Capitol at all, because he'd stand out, so he chose to to go to sleep as soon as he felt the train in motion. He sighed, knowing what was coming. Sleep was never peaceful.

_Cato was surrounded by trees, bushes, and everything else you could imagine that has to do with nature. Including bugs. He swatted at the pesky things, always clouding his vision. Ahead of him was a field, large and almost empty, besides the Cornucopia. His throat almost completely closed. He knew what was coming, but he couldn't move his feet. "Clove!" He let out a strangled cry. He saw the boy from Eleven pick her up and pin her to the large structure, Cato's feet finally worked, and he dashed like a mad man to get to her. No matter how fast he ran, he was only seeing the grass fly past his ankles and Eleven picking up a rock. "Cato!" She shrieked in fear, and I answered quickly, "Clove! Run!"_

_The scene replayed, Eleven bashing the rock into her skull, and her falling to the ground like a rag doll. As soon as it was too late, he got there. They were alone. He collapsed to the ground next to her, holding her hand like a vice. "Stay. Clove, please don't go," His voice was thin and cracking. Her eyes were glazed over and uncomprehending, the fire being drained out. The wound was a dent, no blood, none at all. Cloves eyes flickered to his and narrowed. "Why would I stay? You're pathetic, Cato. You couldn't even reach me, you're slow and you don't stand a chance. I'll see you soon," She winked the cannon fired, a smirk still on her face._

__"Clove run!" He shouted, jolting himself awake. This was how he woke up a lot of the time, breathing heavily, eyes alive with pure fear. He sighs, remembering that she's gone. And he's in a train all alone, in a room with restrains on the wall and a plaque. That's it. Capitol lights shone in the distance, flying away from him in the middle of the night. He got up to read the golden plate, which said, "Tribute Transportation". He knew the plaque was meant for the week before The Hunger Games so they could celebrate in the Capitol and take tours and watch tribute deaths. This was nothing like the cabin he and Clove stayed in. He'd never seen it before, so he assumed it was old.

Then he realized that this was too small to be for people, and there was no way to get food and no bathroom. It made no sense until he put two and two together and swallowed in horror. The restraints. They weren't for humans. This was where they put the coffins of dead tributes and brought them back to the districts.

This is where Clove had spent her last hours before going six feet under forever. It was only a moment before he felt the bile rising in his throat.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! Off topic, but did you see those girls with Alex? They met him and he kissed them and they got piggie back rides! Sorry, but I'm so jealous, I couldn't sleep. That is why I'm writing this. Because of jealousy. And also I just hit my tumblr post limit. **

* * *

Once, a long time ago, Cato made the mistake of eating week old food. He didn't know how old it was at the time, but after that, when he found out, he was sick for days. Any food he ate tried came back up, he could hardly look at it. That was like now. He sat on the ground trying to contain the vomit coming up, and eventually he was able to keep it down, but he was pale as a ghost and continued to shake. Clove was here.

He shook the feeling and tried to distract himself for the remaining hours until he reached District 3, but nothing really worked. His thoughts kept going back to the girl with the knives, the one with the long, sleek brown hair. The one who'd built herself like one would a palace, strong and beautiful. There wasn't a thing out of place with it, even if it wasn't entirely sane. He kept reliving their memories, and every time he did, he acknowledged that it felt like a thousand knives in his chest. _Her knives__._

* * *

_It was New Years eve. It was snowing, and the little white flakes were framing a slightly shivering Clove's face. They fell into her raven hair with great contrast, and she was wearing a thin jacket on the roof of Cato's house. They'd sneaked up there to be alone while everyone else drank and ate. They were just fourteen, sitting on a snow-covered roof. Next to them, hot chocolate steamed, chilling by the second, while they were silent. They knew that the New Year was rapidly approaching, and everyone had their resolutions all planned out, but there was one a certain little girl had still unfulfilled on her list for the ending year:_

_Have her first kiss._

_Cato knew everything about her, including this. They'd exchanged resolutions this time last year, and now that'd he'd remembered it was still up in the air, they got quiet. His light blush was luckily concealed by the cold nipping at his cheeks. The same rang true for her, she was blushing as well, underneath a thin layer of makeup. Her lips were a lovely scarlet, and her eyes painted light brown, as her hair fell in curtains down her shoulders. He couldn't deny she looked very pretty tonight. Her doe eyes occasionally watched him, as he kept his blue eyes on the ground. _

_She shivered slightly, it was enough for him to notice and be concerned about, so he began to take off his jacket for her. She instantly stopped him, "No, you'll freeze," He nodded simply, knowing she was right. She was always right. He nervously wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She was shocked, because he almost never made any movement gesturing as more than being best friends. She blushed deeper, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His eyes lit up a bit._

_Cato himself was having internal conflict, one part of him just wanted to make her happy, and the other screamed 'This is all wrong!' and to pull away as fast as he could. But the second her arms moved to him, he felt something else. Something he couldn't place. He felt good, like he was in charge. He held power, and he wasn't a child anymore. This girl, who'd only turned fourteen a few months ago, was on a snowy rooftop with him, nearly cuddling, and looking at him with the most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen. Ones that sent shivers down his spine. That made his voice, now changed by puberty, lower an octave. He felt his companion shiver and he pulled her closer, rubbing her side a bit. _

_He was easily three inches taller than her. Now that she was looking up into his pale blue eyes, he realized that. She looked like an innocent little girl, but her face and body showed slight signs of development. She was turning into a young woman, but all of that was concealed beneath heavy winter clothes, all he saw now was the look of wonder etched into her face. He didn't know what was happening. Suddenly, their faces were an inch apart, their lips slightly parted in shock at how the other had grown up before their eyes. Her warm breath, laced with the smell of hot chocolate, tickled his pink lips. "Kiss me," She whispered, her lips just centimeters from his. His eyes widened at her unexpected request. They were slowly getting closer, he felt that. This was planned. This was a trap. 'Damn her, damn her for doing this' but he was far too gone to stop this._

_His eyes flickered to her soft-looking lips, dyed a red that he wasn't able to pass up. He bit his before he carefully pressed his lips to hers, catching a cold snow flake between them. It quickly melted, and Cato licked it off, causing a gasp to escape Clove, but she let him. He couldn't sit up any longer, and an invisible and pushed him down so he was laying with the little girl on his chest, breathing her in. They just looked at each other, reeling in what had just happened. "Clove," He said, his voice deep. She nodded, hearing the same thing he had. Chanting. 'Five, four, three' They're eyes were locked together, and they were becoming close again. 'Two, one, Happy-' All sound was cut out to them by Clove smacking her lips to his and them holding each other tight on the roof. They rolled around a bit, before they almost fell off the roof. But it was a mutual euphoria like none other, even if they didn't like each other._

* * *

That was one of Cato's favorite memories of her. Happy, kissing him. Even if he refused the thought of him actually liking her like that, it appeared to put a smile on her face, and he just loved that. Her white teeth framed by her lightly tanned face and dark freckles. He knew she didn't like him like that either, but it made her grin breathlessly. And he loved that. The little things about her that sent shivers down his back.

Now that he was alone, he released the tears he'd kept in repression. His best friend. His first kiss. The girl who had the ability to manipulate him into any shape she wanted and get the best out of him without him even realizing what was going on. She was dead and buried, and he was in one of her final resting places. He wasn't able to get through even half of them before he saw district three approaching.

He wiped his eyes and stood from his huddled position on the ground. All the memories they'd ever had came flooding back, the walls he'd built were crashing down to absolute dust. He carefully opened the train car door and stood on the edge outside. Closing the door, he jumped out with his hands and feet spread out. He walked to district three, which was only ten minutes.

He sneaked through the woods, into the district. This involved being _very_ careful, because district three, it's main export being technology, had it's fence constantly live with electricity. He could hear a constant humming from all around, and that irked him deeply. He liked being able to hear everything from all directions. It reminded him of the woods, training, and morning runs. _Morning runs with..._

He cut off his thoughts. He couldn't start thinking of her again. Now was the time Cato would rebuild the walls that had kept him stable. Crying was for the train. Now, he had to appear normal. Clove should've been the last thing on his mind, he had to tell himself '_She's dead Cato, and if you think she's coming back, than you're a moron.'_ The ground under him was almost spinning as he told himself this. No part of him wanted to ever believe this, because she was supposed to live a long life, with or without him. She would have went home, found someone and died of old age with kids and grandkids, not a victim of The Hunger Games._  
_

He finally came to his senses, knowing that he was on a mission with very limited time. One day. That was all he had, not a full twenty-four hours, but until sun down. His first victim was a boy around his age, but much smaller. Weaker. He grinned, walking up to him. "Hello," Cato said a bit loudly. The boy looked at him like he was insane, but waved half-heartedly. Cato threw an arm around him, walking him away from the rest of District Three. "What's your name?" Cato said, lower. The boy looked up at him, a twinkle of fear in his eye as he stuttered out his name. Something stupid, it didn't sink into Cato's memory. "Well, let's go for a walk," Cato pulled him into an ally.

"All right, I'm gonna make this fast because I'm short on time. One of the districts is starting a rebellion. Are you in," Cato slid the knife out of his pocket and pressed it softly to the boy's neck, "Or are you in?" The terror in his eyes almost made Cato laugh aloud. Without a knife, he was still enough to be a scare. The boy quickly nodded, and Cato released him. "You are to only spread this to people you trust. Or else," He flashed the knife with an evil grin and ran off, leaving the kid terrified.

That is how most of his day went. Threats to a good half of the district, and almost everyone accepted this. Only _once _Cato had to kill a person. He actually kind of regretted it, even though he knew Cleo would have killed him if he didn't kill the girl. He'd remember her distinctly, she had light brown hair and angry green eyes, full of contempt for him, and everything else around them. She was dressed nicer than a lot of the other citizens, so he assumed her to be either a victor's daughter, or possibly a head peacekeeper's. He pressed her to a wall in the ally and explained everything, pressuring her neck the whole time, while she simply glared at him. She certainly was stubborn, "You're trying to start a re-" She was cut off by him pushing harder on her throat. She looked like she was fighting the pain as her voice hightened to a squeek. She glared at him as he held his knife to her neck. "Are you in?" Cato asked. She could have lied. She could have pretended she would spread the word carefully, then told a peacekeeper. But she didn't. She stood by what she believed in, and for that, he had to kill her.

And that's why when he got back on the train, he felt terrible. That girl was just like Clove in beliefs, stubborn. It hurt to kill her, even though he knew it wasn't Clove. It was the memories it resurfaced. All the training times when Clove was pinned, and Cato made an intricate cut, she lay there, teeth clenched, not moving. She masked pain, emotions, everything. She would accept everything, just like that girl. It hurt him terribly.

Just like everything seemed to lately.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry if this sucked, but it was rushed, since I'm possibly going on vacation with my friend in two days, where there is no wifi for atleast a week, I wanted to be sure that I got this out so there wouldn't be this long gap of time. If you guys like my writing that much. I doubt it. It's 2:30 am and I have an appointment tomorrow, so I must leave you. Review? It makes me smile :D**


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